Feeling Chatty?
by WrenClayton
Summary: You're a demon. That's the good news. The bad news is that Dean Winchester has a few questions for you.
1. Chapter 1

Warnings: This is a reader-insert story about the reader being **forced** into a sexual situation. Includes bondage and fear. A knife makes a brief appearance, but is not used sexually. If any of this will trouble you, please do not read.

Additional warning: The "reader-insert" in this story (or at least the meatsuit) has **breasts** and a **vagina**, and sexual things are done to them. If these are not the body parts you have, or want to have, consider whether you are comfortable having a block of text describe things being done to them.

**READ THE BLOODY WARNINGS. YES, YOU. DO IT.**

* * *

When you regain consciousness, you're tied to a chair.

You can't see anything through the tight darkness of the blindfold wrapped around your head. But you can feel the binding pull of a devil's trap, encircling you like a noose, locking you in place. It's a dizzying weakness that seeps through your body and mind, sapping your roiling strength until you're as feeble as a human. You let out a soft groan, and are answered by a voice that feels nauseatingly familiar.

"Well well. Look who's awake."

There are footsteps, coming towards you, and the blindfold is yanked down. As you blink your black eyes in the light, face comes into view — scruffy with stubble, not an ounce of friendliness. Now you don't know this for sure, but you're almost positive that what you're seeing is a Winchester. In any case, the last thing you remember before blacking out is turning around and seeing this very man swinging a lead pipe at your head.

"Dean," the man announces, confirming your suspicions. He gives you a dry smile, bracing his strong arms against the chair you're tied to, leaning over you. "You might have heard of me. And your name is?"

You let out an unhappy sigh, looking around the room. It's dark and musty. The walls are lined with chains and knives. It's not too hard to suss out why you've been taken alive. Well, you're not about to hand over any trade secrets. You've been trained well.

"Not feeling chatty, I see." Dean shoves back from your chair and straightens up. His green eyes are looking you over like you're a piece of meat, one he's trying to decide how to carve up. He starts to slowly walk around you, boots making dull thumps on the floor. The assessing weight of his eyes makes you uneasy. He's scanning over every inch of your body as he paces like a circling predator, and it feels like he's picking out every weakness you have just by looking. You shuffle uncomfortably in your chair, twisting a little at the rough grip of ropes on your wrists and ankles. You're not naked, but you feel like you are.

"You probably think you know what I'm gonna do to you," Dean murmurs softly. His voice makes your hair stand on end.

_Torture. Not much of a mystery. _You don't give him the honor of hearing you speak.

Dean doesn't seem to require an answer. You hear the footsteps stop right behind you, hear his soft breathing. Knuckles brush against the side of your neck, and you shiver in spite of yourself at the tingle that runs down your spine.

"You probably think I want you for information."

You stiffen, the tingle turning into a jolt. _Doesn't he?_

"Believe me, you wouldn't be alive if I didn't want you to talk." Dean's fingertips brush along your jaw, gentle, teasing. He leans down and breathes in your ear, soft and intimate. "But let's not jump straight into the questions, hm? I want to wait until you're good and _ready._"

Dean's breath is hot against your neck. You can almost picture his lips, inches away from your skin, smirking. His smug voices makes you itch to be free of this devil's trap so you can fling him against the wall and hear his bones snap.

"I figure… why not get started right off the bat?" he remarks softly. "You're not going to talk right away. We both know that. So let's just skip the pretense and get to the fun part… "

The hand tickling your neck trails down, and your heart leaps into your throat when his fingertips brush over your breast. You try to pull away instinctively, but the rope and the chair hold you in place. Your nipple stiffens under his touch, and you suck in a frightened breath when Dean's fingertip trails in a teasing circle around it. He chuckles at your body's reaction.

"By the time I start asking you questions," Dean purrs, wrapping his hand around your breast and feeling you, "you're going to spill _everything._"

Fuck. This wasn't something you were ready for. The Winchesters have a reputation for chopping up demons, but you figured they'd have some high-and-mighty, we're-the-good-guys thing against _this_… But the sadistic hunger in Dean's voice tells you that you figured wrong. You chew your lip as Dean kneads your breast slowly. This vessel may not be your original body, but that doesn't mean you can't feel everything that happens to it. And you can't smoke out with this devil's trap locking you down. There's nothing you can do as Dean's lips brush behind your ear, and he murmurs, "Nice tits, demon bitch."

Your jaw tenses. You'd like to rip his head off for that. Instead you just grunt when his fingers tease at your nipple in a way that — oh fuck — shouldn't feel that good. You squirm a little in the chair when he grabs your other breast.

"You know, saving the world from you sons of bitches and your bitch king is nerve-wracking work," Dean remarks, almost casually. "Just sit there for a moment, sweetheart, and think about how much pent-up frustration I'm in the mood to take out right now."

Dean squeezes harder and you whimper. You're starting to realize just how much trouble you're in. It's clear that Dean isn't putting off the interrogation because "you won't talk right away," he's putting it off because he wants an excuse to do_this, _and he'll keep doing it until you give him a solid reason not to. His hand slides down your stomach, stroking the inside of your thigh through your pants, and you whine as you feel him nip at your neck.

"My own little stress ball," he chuckles. "What do you think of that?"

You're trying to close your legs but his hand is already between them, fondling you. It's making your cheeks burn and your stomach simmer with pleasure. An embarrassing noise slips between your clenched teeth when he rubs harder, fingers working expertly and sending a spark of pleasure through you.

"You're gonna be such a nice toy, too. Can't wait to put your sweet ass in its place."

He leans forward just a little more, and you wrench your head around and try to bite him. Dean laughs as he pulls back from your snapping teeth, proclaiming "Feisty!" before grabbing the back of your chair and _yanking _it so that the chair topples over backwards. You land with a pained grunt on your back as the chair clatters the the cement floor, staring up at a spinning ceiling and a grinning Dean Winchester. You're still strapped to the chair by your arms and legs, stuck like this on your back. Your heart tries to jump into your throat when Dean kneels down and straddles your chest. You can feel the heavy weight of him, his muscular legs on either side of you.

"I think I like this better." His hands are on your chest again, squeezing, feeling, and it's making your heart race. You flinch instinctively when he pulls a knife out of his pocket. "Yeah, we can make this work… "

The knife tears through the fabric of your clothes, and suddenly your chest is open to the air. Dean runs his tongue over his lips slowly, brushing your torn clothes aside as he takes in the sight of your bare chest. You're flushing under the heat of his gaze. Dean palms your breast slowly, giving you a mocking grin the whole time, and you wriggle against the bindings. His hand is warm, rough-skinned, hungry as it feels you. The sound of a zipper being pulled down almost makes your heart stop. Dean's reaching into his pants, squeezing his free hand hand between his toned stomach and the denim of his jeans to grab his cock.

"You look hungry, baby," Dean taunts.

You bare your teeth at him and he laughs, working his cock out. In spite of yourself, you swallow at the sight of it. The skin is flushed as his calloused hand rubs over it, a slick smear of precome already beading at the tip.

"Nah, better not. I think we've established that you're a biter." Dean smirks. Then he presses his cock down, pushing the blunt head of it against your breast. You can feel the heat and smoothness of it, and it leaves a slick smear across your nipple, like he's marking you.

"So let's take a stab at this. You gonna talk?"

Of course you're not. He knows you're not. What kind of demon would you be to break this quickly? All he's done is… take his cock out and… he's rubbing it over your tits again, clearly enjoying the sensation of your soft breasts squishing against the head of his cock, leaving slick smears all over you. Oh god, you can_smell _him, sex and sweat and adrenaline and _man —_

"No? Didn't think so."

Dean stands up suddenly, his knife's out again and before you know what's happening, he's slashing the ropes that bind your legs to the chair.

"That's just fine with me, I've got no problem moving this show along."

You yelp and try to kick at him when your legs are free, but the devil's trap keeps you from throwing any real strength into it. Dean's bending your legs back, pushing your knees to your chest, grabbing at your pants — fuck —

A ripping sound tells you that your pants are no longer functionally _pants_. Dean saws his knife through the last few fibers so he can spread your legs properly. Your face is quickly turning pink, and with nothing but the thin shield of underwear between him and your crotch, you're feeling awfully exposed. You pant up at him, squirming, legs straining helplessly against his hold. You're completely doubled over, legs up to your chest with Dean kneeling over you, his hungry eyes locked on the wet patch in your underwear.

Dean lets go of your leg with one hand, grabbing his cock and bumping it against the damp mound of your pussy. "Someone's eager."

You mean to snarl at him, but you think it comes out as a whimper because his cockhead is grinding against your clit. Dean stands up, shrugging his jacket off one shoulder at a time, cock still hanging out of his jeans and leaking precome.

"I gotta say, demon bitch, I was _really _hoping you wouldn't talk."

Dean grabs his jeans, tugging them down a few inches, then seems to get impatient and drops to his knees over you again. He braces himself on one strong arm, his bicep stretching the sleeve of his t-shirt, his other hand pressing down on your stomach and holding you still. His body is between your legs, keeping them spread open, and when you feel the hungry bump of his cock against you, you squirm.

Dean just laughs and reaches down, yanking your underwear to the side. You shout in alarm when he slips a finger along your wet slit.

"Mmm. You're all buttered up."

And then he's worming the finger inside you, making you tense up and cry out and_shudder. _Dean's grinning, his tongue poking out between his teeth, watching with clear pleasure as you squirm. He moves his finger inside you, slicking it in and out a few times before adding a second. A groan escapes you, try as you might to bite it down. The bastard's fucking _good _with his fingers, moving them just right inside you. And you can tell he knows it, it's written all over that arrogant grin.

Dean pulls his wet fingers out of you and rubs them down the length of his cock, leaving a slick streak. You can't tear your eyes away from the sight.

"I suppose you get one more chance," Dean drawls. "Come on. Show and tell. Feel like sharing with the class, baby?"

Your heart's pounding a little too hard for you to think clearly. You're not sure, you can't decide if you should —

"Whoops," Dean interrupts, tugging your underwear aside again. "Time's up."

And then his cock is pushing hard against you and slipping _inside _you and you gasp and tighten up, and fuck, that was a mistake because he's _thick_. Dean groans and pushes in _deeper, _rocking his hips down, making you cry out.

"Nnnh, you seem a little tense, sweetheart." He closes his eyes and groans again, his cock slipping into you so _easily. _" … Fuck… "

His heavy length settles inside you, hot and thick. You don't think this meatsuit has had a lot of practice down there, because you can feel the burn of a stretch as his cock opens you up. Dean chews his lip slowly and gives a lazy hump, his dick making a wet noise as it slicks back inside you. Your underwear rubs against the side of his dick each time he moves it, pushed out of the way so he can sink into you. You whine, legs kicking when he does it again. Oh fuck, it's making your whole body _hum _with pleasure.

"You know," Dean taunts, his laugh a little breathless as he thrusts into you again, "I wouldn't mind demons so much if they were all like _this._"

You yank against the ropes, trying to struggle free, and Dean groans and pumps his cock in deep. You whimper. You can feel his balls pressing against your ass with each thrust, every inch of him sheathed inside you. It feels good, feels _really_fucking good, but it's pissing you off because you were supposed to to _kill _this bastard, not pleasure him. And you can tell from that smug grin on his face as he snaps his hips down, making you gasp with each thrust… he knows it. Knows he won.

Dean presses a powerful hand up under your jaw, holding you in place as he pants against your lips. "No pressure, now. You don't feel like talking, that's just fine and dandy."

You try to snarl at him but it's really more of a moan, desperate and pitiful. It's hard to be very ferocious when you're impaled on his cock. Dean lets go of your jaw and straightens up again, grabbing your legs one by one and hiking them over his shoulders, bracing himself on his arms again as he really works into you. Oh fuck, you're bent over almost double, you can _see _his cock disappearing into you, shaft slick and pumping, filling you up. Each time he grinds his hips down all the way, he bumps against your clit, and it makes you see _stars _but it's not enough —

"Want something?" Dean teases.

You clench your teeth, inadvertently clenching your cunt around him too. You'll spill Hell's secrets before you beg for an orgasm. Even if you can feel one boiling in your stomach, even if that thick cock stuffing you is making you shiver and melt, making you want to give yourself over completely —

Dean reaches down and rubs one expert finger over your clit in a smooth stroke. The noise you make could be best categorized as a scream, and you instinctively spread your legs as much as you can, welcoming him in, begging for more with your body. Dean _laughs, _and the arrogance of it makes you tighten up again, but you're no more able to stop him than you were before.

"Want me to rub you off, sugar? Wouldn't take long, would it?" His finger moves again, just a quick little _flick, _and your whole body lurches. "Just gotta tell me what I want to know."

_Fuck _it's hard not to just shout out every secret you know, just to have that finger rubbing you while he pumps inside. You're so fucking close, you _need _to come. You almost sob when Dean lets his hand slip away, bracing himself on it again so he can fuck into you harder, each thrust making the chair scrape across the floor.

"That's it, hold out a little longer. Don't spill those secrets just yet. I'd hate to have to stop."

You can barely think straight, it's all you can do just to breathe with him on top of you, inside you, filling you up and making your head spin. You're actually grinding your hips up against him, desperate for friction, your pussy eagerly clenching around his cock as he _thrusts _into it —

"Oh f-fuck — " Dean tenses, jaw tightening as he slams his hips down. "G-god,_fuck_ — "

Dean makes a noise like a _snarl _and you can feel each pulse as he comes, his cock twitching and buried to the base. You can feel his come too, wet and thick and hot, making a mess inside you. Dean lets out a long breath and pulls out of you slowly, letting you watch each come-slick inch drag free. He lets his cock lie there for a moment, heavy against your pussy and glistening wet, letting you see what he did to you.

"Feeling chatty yet?" he asks breathlessly.

You swallow hard, trembling like a leaf, whimpering at how empty you feel. You still need to come, your body is on _fire _with the need of it. It takes all your strength not to say a word.

Dean chews his lip and pulls himself to his feet, tucking his cock away. He doesn't bother to cover you up, your torn shirt still thrown open, your underwear still pulled to the side and wet with come. He grabs some rope off a table and starts tying your feet to the chair again, humming to himself as he works. You can't seem to catch your breath. Your clit is throbbing, and his come ought to be dripping out of you, but the angle of your hips is keeping it pooled inside your body, messy and wet —

Dean gives an admiring whistle as he looks you over, and your cheeks darken.

"Why don't you think it over," he suggests, grabbing his jacket off the table. "You've got five minutes. Then Sam's coming down to see if you feel like talking."

Some of Dean's come finally oozes out of you as you _clench. _He snickers and walks towards the door, whistling, leaving you there, tied up and shivering and covered in sweat and Dean's come.

* * *

_Coming soon: Feeling Chatty Part II_


	2. Chapter 2

Five minutes stuck on your back, tied to a chair, staring at a ceiling while your heart pounds. Five minutes of your whole body aching for a touch, and getting none. Five minutes is long enough for the building orgasm in your stomach to slowly subside, ebbing away with frustrating slowness to a dull tingle. You spend the first minute wiggling frantically, breathless. You try to rub your legs together, but they're bound tight to the legs of the chair and separated, leaving your pussy exposed to the air and frustratingly unstimulated. You can still feel the ache of Dean inside you, and it makes your cheeks burn but you want him back inside. As time passes, the sweat on your body starts to cool, but Dean's come is still sticky-hot in your body. It makes you shiver.

Five minutes pass.

You tense at the sound of the door opening. You look up, and the man that must be Sam Winchester closes the door behind himself.

He's _huge_. Even if you hadn't been lying on your back on the floor, he'd look gigantic. He's staring down at you calmly from behind stray stands of hair, hands in his jacket pockets. Your clothes are in rags, and you're completely exposed to his eyes, down to your yanked-aside underwear showing off the slickness of Dean's come dripping out of you. And yet, Sam's not eating you up with his gaze the way Dean did. Just observing.

He walks up to you slowly, almost casually, towering above you for a moment before he kneels.

"Are you ready to talk?" he asks.

You blink. He hasn't even done anything yet. The back of your neck prickles with unease, but you just can't make yourself give up Hell's secrets to some hunter just because they _ask._

Sam lets out a breath through his nose. "No?"

You frown at him. Sam's jaw tenses for just a second. That's all the warning you get before he grabs your hair hard enough to make you shout.

"That's the last time I'll ask," Sam informs you. His tone hasn't changed, still cold and calm as he pulls a knife out of his pocket. It sends a chill through you, makes your heart thud against your ribcage as he slices through the ropes binding you, knife moving with a violence that has you cringing. When your arms are free, you try to pull his hand away from your hair, but it's like trying to move bolted-down steel. Sam cuts your legs free, and before you can fight back he's wrenching you out of the fallen chair and onto the floor, _throwing _you down. You're twisting, kicking, trying to fight back... but the devil's trap has your demonic powers on lockdown. Sam pins you down on your stomach like it's _easy, _his huge hands yanking you back towards him when you start to crawl away. He barely seems to _notice _your struggles. He straddles you, settling down on your thighs. His weight alone could pin you in place, and when he grabs the back of your neck with one huge hand and pins you down, there's nothing to do but fall still and try to catch your breath.

"Not sure why you're struggling," Sam remarks, hand squeezing once as he watches you pant. "You know you're not getting out of this devil's trap." He's silent for a moment. Your spine prickles, and this time you _can _feel his eyes running over your body, eager and hungry. "I can't say I'm complaining. It'll feel better for me if you squirm."

You make a choked noise of alarm when Sam pushes aside the torn remains of your pants, baring your ass so he can grab it. You wriggle, whining as you feel more of Dean's come seeping out of you. Sam makes a soft noise of satisfaction, taking in the sight of everything between your legs.

"Dean got you all ready," Sam muses, trailing one finger through the sloppy mess of come oozing out of you. You shiver at the touch, and Sam chuckles. "Wet and loose." He starts pushing his finger in, slipping it easily into your hungry hole, and you try to fight down a moan. You can't move with him pinning you down, but if you could, you'd probably be pushing your hips back and riding his hand for all you're worth because _fuck, _maybe your orgasm didn't recede quite as much as you thought it did, his finger is making your head spin.

You hear a zipper. Something hard and hot bumps against your ass. Sam's finger is still slowly working in and out of you, and you want to struggle more but you're shivering with pleasure. He pulls his finger out and replaces it with the nudging head of his cock, and before you can so much as make a noise he's grabbing your hips and sliding in.

You shout against the cellar floor, face pressed against the red lines of the devil's trap as inch after inch sinks into you. He slides in so easily, you're so loose from taking Dean. Sam lets out a soft, satisfied noise and shifts his hips, still grabbing your ass and squeezing.

"Hm. Nice view," he remarks, rubbing his thumb over the slick place where he's entering you. You groan, panting against the floor. His hands feel so big on your ass, holding you in place as he drags his cock out of you inch by agonizing inch before pushing it back in. You can feel him slicking through Dean's come, making more drip out of you with each pump.

"Hands behind your back."

You tense at the command. You're breathing hard, you can feel the thick stretch of him inside you, you're not sure what to do -

The _slap _of Sam's hand against your ass rings through the cellar, and you shout in response, tensing around his cock. "_Hands,_" Sam snarls, grabbing your hair and yanking, "_behind your back._"

Heart pounding, you do as he says. You can't stop flexing around his cock, whimpering at the thickness of it inside you. Sam grabs your wrists, easily moving them where he wants them, and a second later you can feel the rasp of rope on your skin. You whimper against the floor as he binds your hands, his cock still buried inside you. Sam idly rocks his hips as he works, humming contentedly. He takes his time, making sure the ropes are good and tight, a bright sting digging into your wrists.

"Dean tells me you weren't very forthcoming," he remarks.

You manage a glare over your shoulder in response. Sam pats your ass condescendingly, giving you a little smile.

"I'm sure we'll fix that."

He rolls his hips forward again, balls pressing against the backs of your thighs. He's lighting your nerves up, teasing the curling pleasure in your stomach back to life. You moan when he pulls back before pushing into you with a slick noise. He's thrusting deep inside you, rocking your body against the floor, hands firm on your ass and pinning your hips in place. You pant against the red lines of the devil's trap. You're almost glad his powerful grip is pinning you in place, because if you could move at all you'd probably be spreading your legs invitingly and letting him in as deep as you can take him.

"You know, Dean had a lot to say about you. Said you were nice and tight. Told me how much you loved getting put in place."

The words chafe on your pride. But then again, your pride already has to deal with the possessive hands on your ass and the thick cock thrusting into you.

Sam's thumb flicks over your _other _hole, and you tense up instinctively, eyes widening.

"Huh. Looks like Dean wasn't very thorough."

You shoot Sam a panicked look over your shoulder. Sam gives you a crooked half-smile, and fuck, those dimples are way too fucking innocent for the lube he's pulling out of his jacket. He pops the bottle open, pausing for a moment before squeezing a slick glob onto his fingers. He's staring at you the whole time, his cock still buried in you to the hilt, pinning you down with his weight. You bite your lip when he rocks his hips.

"Keep squeezing. It feels good."

You whimper.

Sam grabs and spreads your ass with his non-lubed hand, exposing you. He pauses there, making you shiver. You hiss when his lube slick fingers swirl over you, getting you nice and wet. You already feel stuffed full with Sam's cock, you don't think you can _fit _anything else. You whimper and try to squirm away from the probing touch. All you manage to do is clench around Sam's cock, hips wiggling against him. Sam groans and grabs your hip with his free hand, slamming into you and stopping your movements.

"Mmmh, that's better... " He starts pushing his thumb against you, teasing the tight ring of muscle open as he thrusts. "Huh. Looks like I found a way to make you squeeze." He works his fingers into your hair, grabbing you like he owns you. "Tight little demon bitch."

You gasp as Sam works his thumb in deeper with each rock of his hips, stuffing you. From the burn of his thumb stretching you, you guess this body's had even less experience with the back door than the front. Sam laughs, soft and quick, a little breathless.

"Not gonna lie. I could get used to this."

You clench your teeth. You fucking _hate _smug hunters. But you're finding it hard to retort with Sam working his slick thumb in and out of your ass while he fucks you. It's all you can do to breathe without letting out needy gasps like a bitch in heat.

You feel Sam shift, feel his breath on the back of your neck. "You know," Sam whispers, sliding his thumb out of your ass slowly and leaving you feeling slick and loose. "I don't _have_ to be rough. It's not like I don't know how to make things very, _very_ pleasant for you."

You bite your lip. Sam kisses the back of your neck and keeps talking, still rocking his cock into you.

"You want to come, don't you? I could make you come again and again." He lifts your hips with one hand, pulling you back onto his cock, and reaches under your body. His fingers tease at your skin, never quite going where you want them, making you shiver with need. "Just think about it." His voice is soft, you can feel his lips brushing against your neck. "Just take a moment, and consider what my lips will feel like locked around your clit."

His finger brushes feather-light through the slickness between your legs, and you spasm and almost come on the spot. Sam laughs quietly and pulls his hand away, leaving you moaning desperately.

"Just tell me what I want to know."

You damn near sob with the effort it takes to stay quiet. Sam sighs.

"Well, if you're not going to talk, no need to worry about your pleasure, is there?"

Sam slips his cock out of you, leaving you achingly empty. Before you can do more than whimper once with need, he's got a hand in your hair and is wrenching you, yelping, to your knees. You hear the clatter of the chair being pulled upright and then you're being thrown over it, bent at the waist, with Sam snarling eagerly into your neck. His cock finds your pussy and thrusts into it once, hard, making you shout, before pulling out and rubbing hot and slick over your ass.

"Gonna be as tight for me as you were for my brother?" Sam hisses. Your heart pounds.

Sam slips the wet, blunt head of his cock over your hole a few times, leaving wet smears of your come and his precome and - oh holy fuck, Dean's come too. He starts to nudge it in, teasingly, and knowing that Sam Winchester is slipping his cock into your ass with the way slicked by his brother's come -

You can't help it, you relax around the demanding push of his cock and the thick head slips inside. You bite your lip hard as you immediately clench around it again. It burns - fuck, this is _way _thicker than his thumb.

"Mmm, that _is _tight."

Sam gives another gentle nudge, and it's like your body just sucks him in because that thick cock _plunges _into you, filling you up so suddenly that you gasp. Sam shudders once, his composure flickering.

"F-fuck - that feels _so_ damn good - "

Sam's breath is hot against your neck. You can imagine the look on his face, hair falling in his eyes as he pants. He's got one firm hand on your hip, holding you in place as he rocks his hips. His other hand snakes around your neck, swallowing it up in a firm grip, barely loose enough for you to breathe. He drags his cock out a few inches and slips it back in, shuddering on top of you and groaning. You know you're not even taking the whole thing, but it feels so damn deep. A thin, pitiful noise escapes you when he thrusts again.

"Something wrong?" Sam asks, panting. You can practically hear his grin. "Come on. You know what it takes to make a considerate lover out of me."

He rolls his hips forward, harder, and you whine. It's not that this hurts - you're a demon, after all, give yourself some credit - it's the fullness of it, the pumping, the way his cock stretches you open. You feel _owned, _hands tied behind your back, Sam's strong hand holding your throat as he pushes his cock a little deeper into your ass with each thrust. And you know he _likes _it, that's the most irritating part - this flimsy little human hunter is using your body like his personal toy, taking you however he pleases, when he ought to be -

Oh _fuck_. His balls are bumping against your cunt, he's got the whole thing inside you.

"Not gonna last long like this," Sam grunts, nuzzling your neck as he fucks into you. "Mmh, you're such a good demon whore, squeezing my dick like that... Go on, stay nice and tight." Sam bites your neck. "I said _tight._"

He's thrusting faster now, the slick burn of it making pleasure pool in your belly. HIs hips press against your ass with each grind, and you can feel his legs flexing against the backs of your thighs. Sam chuckles softly, a little breathlessly, and squeezes your neck.

"You're getting my balls wet," he whispers.

You _clench _at that. When Sam creeps one large hand delicately down your leg, you bite your lip to keep from _begging._

"You must be dripping," he purrs, teasing those careful fingers around the inside of your thigh. He swirls the pad of his finger in teasing circles, making you shiver, clenching tight around him. He only thrusts harder into your tense ass, and holy _fuck_ it feels good.

Sam's finger is hovering over your clit, and it's all you can do not to _scream._

"Just say yes, little demon," Sam whispers in your ear, balls bumping against you as he thrusts. "Just spill a few secrets for me and my brother, and I'll just... move my finger... a little bit... "

His finger bumps against you. It's like firecracker went off in your belly.

Sam chuckles when you arch your back and push your hips back against him, letting him slip even deeper.

"I'll let you come," he promises. Oh fuck, he's thrusting so hard, it would only take a few rubs of those clever fingers - He rubs you _once, _firm and painfully sweet, and there isn't an _ounce _of dignity in the noise you make in response.

"Just say yes." His slick fingers stroke down the inside of your leg, and suddenly his voice hardens into a low threat that sends a chill down your spine. "If you don't, I'll cream in your slutty ass and leave you naked in the devil's trap all night. Tied up." He gives a thrust that's brutal enough to make you shout. "No relief."

Your knees feel weak. No, you can't take that, you _need _to get off -

"You can still be useful without giving us information." Sam squeezes your neck, strangling your gasps. "Coming back from a hunt, riled up and frustrated... it'll be nice to have a tight little bitch around to fuck into." He _bites. _"Fucktoys don't get orgasms."

Sam's fingers are dancing around your pussy, never touching for more than a quick brush, his thick cock pounding into you so hard he's scraping the chair across the floor. You're gonna be sore from this, and fuck, you can barely breathe he's grabbing your neck so hard, holding you still so he can fuck you -

Sam groans suddenly, low and urgent, hips snapping into you, and you freeze when you realize he's throbbing inside you. His breath his hot against your neck as he empties himself so damn deep inside it feels like he's filling up your belly, spurt after spurt of hot, sticky come.

"Fuck... " Sam's gasping, hair tickling your neck as his powerful body shudders. "Oh god, fuck... "

When he drags his thick cock out of you inch by inch, you feel a little lightheaded at how much of him was inside you. It seems like forever before the head finally slips out, and Sam thumbs your sore, pink hole with a chuckle of satisfaction, smearing his own come over it.

"There. That's how a whore's ass should look."

You try to hide your red face against the chair. You gasp when Sam plunges two fingers into your cunt.

"Holes full of come. Better get used to it."

Sam pulls his fingers out and stands up suddenly, and when you realize he's about to _walk away _and leave you there, _again, _you frantically shake your head.

Sam pauses, looking down at you. "Want something?"

You nod, biting your lip. Sam kneels down, lifting your chin gently. Fuck, his cock is still out of his pants, still slick with his come, it would be so easy for him to coax your panting mouth open and slide it inside, make you clean him off...

"Gonna talk?" Sam asks gently.

You bite your lip, shudder, and nod.

Sam grins. "That's more like it." He rubs his hand soothingly down your back, grabbing your ass. "Fucktoys don't get orgasms, but informants...? Oh, they get all the orgasms they want."

You nod again, frantically, just wanting him to not stop. Sam smiles and moves so he's kneeling behind you, staring at the wet mess between your legs. "Show of good faith," he offers, teasing two fingers down your wet slit. "How about a little down payment?"

You can't form a coherent answer because he's plunging two fingers into your pussy, working them in and out. You settle for nodding again, you can't goddamn _think _with his fingers moving and twisting like that. He slides his other hand between your legs, one finger gently massaging your clit while he works the others into you.

"You'll keep on getting this for as long as you keep on talking," Sam promises. He pulls his fingers out for a moment so he can work one into your ass, middle and ring fingers slipping back into your pussy so he can fuck both holes at once. Fuck, skillful fingers must run in the Winchester family because Dean almost took you apart with his and now _Sam_ _-_

"So _wet,_" Sam draws, watching his fingers disappear into you, still rubbing your clit, making your whole body spasm with waves of pleasure about to crest - "I'm looking forward to rewarding you again. And again. And again."

When the pleasure finally peaks, you almost black out from it. Sam's fingers don't stop moving, don't stop working pulse after pulse of pleasure out of you, rubbing and kneading and _thrusting _while you scream words to the floor that only demons scream when they come. It feels like the breath has been knocked out of you when the stars fade, your body still sparkling and tingling as Sam slips his wet fingers out of you. You hear him move, but mostly you hear your own heart pounding in your ears, feel the tickle of sweat dripping off your body. A gentle hand cups your chin, lifting your flushed face.

Sam smiles. "Ready to talk?"

You lick your dry lips and nod.

Sam's grin broadens and he lets go of your chin, standing up. "I'll get my brother."


	3. Epilogue

If Hell ever gets its claws on you again, you're fucked. Because right now you're spilling every secret, rumor and gossip you ever heard in your preternaturally long life, telling it all to the pair of hunters whose captivity you're in.

You're sitting in Dean's lap, your back pressed against his bare chest while he whispers gentle questions in your ear. ("And who holds that contract?" "How do we kill them?" "Gonna come for us again, sweetheart?") He can't thrust much in this position, but just having his cock buried inside you is enough when coupled with what _Sam _is doing.

There's a reason Dean's the one asking the questions — Sam's mouth is a little busy, swirling his tongue over your clit and sucking with his soft lips, licking you with broad, flat laps that you _know _go low enough to stroke the base of his brother's cock. Just the sight of that pretty face between your legs is something else, and you can tell Sam would be grinning if his mouth wasn't so busy lapping and biting and sealing over you hungrily. His hands are holding your legs apart, keeping them spread wide while he eats you out with so much groaning_enthusiasm _that you have to wonder if he's going to get off on this too.

"Focus, sweetheart," Dean purrs. His fingers tease at your nipples, pinching two keen sparks of pleasure into them, and your back arches, rocking your hips down onto his cock. "We need another name."

Sam stands up suddenly, panting and jerking his cock, rubbing the slick head back and forth over your clit and making you _tremble._

"Where do you want it?" he asks breathlessly.

Yup, you're fucked if Hell ever finds you.


End file.
